


i will follow

by dustbear



Series: the tiny spaces [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 17:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustbear/pseuds/dustbear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The breaking point comes out of nowhere. Bruce is sitting in the kitchen around noon, and Clint walks in and microwaves up an Indian curry. Natasha comes in too, dressed up for a short assignment, and her perfume smells like jasmine and opium. Tony is already there, holding a tumbler of very expensive scotch. And all these smells sliding together - from different continents and different places - the cardamom and lemongrass and jasmine and peat moss - Bruce can feel them all and his entire body tenses, and he is absolutely certain that he wants to leave. </p><p>Dr. Bruce Banner packs his backpack - two pants, four shirts, a toothbrush, three sets of forged documentation, and twenty thousand dollars in cash - and walks out of Avengers Tower. He drops his phone in an envelope, then a mailbox, and disappears.</p><p>Natasha follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. on the run.

Bruce has spent months living with the other Avengers, cooking dinner, and being part of the big, messy, complicated family of misfits assembled in Stark Tower - wait, Avengers Tower now, as everyone calls it.

Stark builds him a lab. It is filled with more technology than he could ever dream of, and a research budget granted him by both SHIELD and Stark Industries that he could never really spend down, even if he’s been trying - and he definitely has(at least Stark’s budget, because he won’t touch SHIELD’s filthy money).

What he doesn’t have is space. Or privacy. New York is vertical buildings and crowded sidewalks and far too many people. Avengers Tower is full of bold, brash Tony Stark, and kind, polite, and constantly-asking-how-you’re-doing Steve Rogers and prank loving Clint Barton, and very, very, very loud Thor. And Natasha Romanoff, who is the quietest of all, but he feels her eyes on him at the most discomfiting times.

He is getting twitchy, and he knows it.

The breaking point comes out of nowhere. Bruce is sitting in the kitchen around noon, and Clint walks in and microwaves up an Indian curry. Natasha comes in too, dressed up for a short assignment, and her perfume smells like jasmine and opium. Tony is already there, holding a tumbler of very expensive scotch. And all these smells sliding together - from different continents and different places - the cardamom and lemongrass and jasmine and peat moss - Bruce can feel them all and his entire body tenses, and he is absolutely certain that he wants to leave.

“Is everything okay, Bruce?” Natasha asks, reaching over with a spoon to steal Clint’s curry, “You look really tense.” Clint notes, swatting Natasha’s arm away.

“I’m fine.” Bruce says. And he leaves.

Dr. Bruce Banner packs his backpack - two pants, four shirts, a toothbrush, three sets of forged documentation, and twenty thousand dollars in cash - and walks out of Avengers Tower. He drops his phone in an envelope, then a mailbox, and disappears.

****\---** **

**Juneau, Alaska, three weeks later.**

He knew that SHIELD would catch up eventually, but he didn’t expect them to be so incredibly obvious about it once they did.

The doorbell rings, and he sees a cab drive off through the snow, and then Natasha is there knocking on his front door in jeans, a ratty looking sweater and a thick coat that is nevertheless, not thick enough for the weather. She has a backpack thrown over her shoulder, and a shotgun carelessly slung around her back. She rings the doorbell, and Bruce is instantly suspicious because Natasha is practically famous for never ringing a doorbell, when a lock can be picked, and he’s quite certain the locks on this house are nothing special.

“Aren’t you a bit underdressed?” Bruce opens the door. Natasha’s nose is red from the snow, and there are snowflakes in her hair.

“I’m Russian, I’m fine.” she hisses, but she elbows her way in anyway and makes a beeline for the fireplace, placing the shotgun in the poker rack.

He makes her a cup of hot cocoa, and she accepts gratefully when he hands her the cup and a plate of giant marshmallows. “They’re homemade,” he says, gesturing at the roughly cut pieces of fluff, “Lightly spiced with cardamom.” Natasha stares at them suspiciously. Bruce sighs and goes back to the kitchen, returning with a plate piled high with pink and white swirled marshmallows and offers the plate again. “Strawberry?” Bruce says, and Natasha takes them gleefully, setting the cardamom ones aside without hesitation.

They sit silently, as Natasha warms up, clutching the mug with shaking hands. She pokes a strawberry marshmallow into her cocoa, fishes it out, and shoves it into her mouth in a particularly inelegant manner. Bruce glances at her, and settles back.

“The plane lost my luggage.” Natasha says, breaking the silence.

Bruce raises an eyebrow. “The plane lost your luggage. As in - a commercial airline? Has SHIELD’s Hulk tracking budget been depleted?”

Natasha scowls in response.

Bruce is feeling particularly brave today, so he presses on “I always thought you were a carry on sort of lady, anyway. And definitely not a shotgun type.”

“I forgot to take my favourite knife out of my bag. Had to check it. I bought the shotgun at the fish market down the street.”

“I’m guessing they were low on other weapons at the fish market.”

“Yep. The alternative was a pickaxe.”

Bruce smiles. “Well, shotgun acquiring aside, this all sounds incredibly pedestrian for the Black Widow.”

Natasha dunks another marshmallow and grins at him. “It really is. Terribly inconvenient, but a nice change of pace.”

“Has SHIELD been tracking me for long?”

Natasha shrugs. “Not at all. You did really well this time, actually. They thought you’d cross the border into Mexico, get international as quickly as possible. The paper trail you left definitely corroborated that.”

“I always do that, though.”

“Exactly. Good job.“

“So, you’re here to take me back?”

“Nope. Just keeping an eye on things.”

“Just monitoring me? Really? Usually SHIELD at least pretends to keep a distance.”

“It’s really cold outside, Bruce. And...you had a fire.“

“Natasha Romanoff as the little matchstick girl?”

In response, Natasha tosses a marshmallow at his face. It gets stuck in his hair, which makes her giggle as she reaches over to pull it out of his hair, leaving a clump of sticky sugar residue in his already messy curls.

“I’ll fix that,” Natasha declares, and runs on over to the kitchen. Bruce hears a clattering noise and is surprised at Natasha’s sudden lack of grace. She returns, sheepishly rubbing her shin, and hastily wads a wet paper towel up in Bruce’s hair. “Your kitchen broom is very well trained,” she mumbles self deprecatingly, “almost got the better of me.” Five minutes later, she sighs and apologizes, “I think I made it worse,” she complains, poking at a sugar-dreaded clump of matted, curly hair.

Bruce sighs - his life had been so much more peaceful just half an hour ago.

He leans his back against the sink as Natasha hops up and sits on the counter behind him, her feet dangling in the sink. “I needed a haircut anyway,“ he says, pulling open the kitchen drawer that holds the scissors, but Natasha still looks a bit guilty.

“So, uh, what’s the deal,” Bruce asks, as Natasha lops off a little more hair from the right side of his head than he would have preferred.

“The deal with what?” she say, faux-innocently.

“You coming here, on a commercial flight, losing your luggage, completely unprepared for the weather?”

“SHIELD data said you were in South America.” Natasha explains. “General Ross has regained jurisdiction over the Hulk through some ridiculous paperwork loophole. SHIELD can track you and protect you, but if they do, it makes it easier for Ross to find you as well, so as an organization, they’re staying out of it. Right now, the battle is mostly legal, and Stark Industries has loaned out their legal team to SHIELD to reclaim you as SHIELD property.”

Bruce doesn’t think that is an explanation and he bristles at the word property, and Natasha catches it, but says nothing.

“When do we leave, then?”

“You don’t have to. No one knows you’re here yet. Except me, and my StarkPhone is on my bedside table back in New York, and my SHIELD tracking chip is in a very nice Japan Airways stewardess’ luggage.” Natasha pulls up her sleeve and shows Bruce the small scar on her forearm, where the tracker was implanted.

“I know you left New York to be alone, so I’m not going to bother you, but I’m just going to keep an eye on things, okay?” Natasha offers.

“So, you’re my bodyguard?”

“No, just a concerned friend.” Natasha grins, and Bruce feels a warm, protective mist invade his thoughts.

\---

The doorbell rings at 5am.

“Mr. Brenner?” the person asks, and a streak of anxiety passes through Bruce, because he’s not expecting anyone, and he’s about to send the man away and start packing his things for another quick getaway, when he realizes - yes, right,  Natasha’s luggage, and signs for it instead. He looks at the luggage tag, which is marked clearly with his current address, and the name Natalia Brenner.

“Sorry about that,” Natasha says softly and yawning, approaching softly behind him and reaching out to take the luggage, which is a battered, carry on sized, hardshell case covered in airline stickers.

She unpacks the luggage in the living room, and Bruce is surprised to note that the only weapon she retrieves is a knife, even if he knows that Natasha can probably make a weapon out of a bar of soap and a toothbrush, both of which she did pack.

“You weren’t packing for this weather, were you?” Bruce notes, seeing the jeans and short sleeved shirts Natasha pulls out. “Well, it’s almost sunrise. We can go get breakfast and then go to the general store to get you something warmer. In the meantime, I hope you like flannel.” Natasha looks appalled.

An hour later, after coffee(Natasha) and tea(Bruce), Natasha is bundled up in several layers, some of which comprise of Bruce’s flannel shirts and wool socks. She has an olive green knit cap with earflaps tugged low over her eyes, a ugly teal hoodie, and a large orange scarf wrapped around her neck a few times. “They sell those around hunting season,” Bruce says. “I look like a hobo,” Natasha grumbles. Bruce agrees.

They walk a mile to the diner in town. Bruce orders oatmeal. Natasha orders two cups of hot chocolate, and pancakes. She looks a little disappointed when the hot chocolate doesn’t come with marshmallows.

\---

Bruce goes to the bathroom, and when he gets back, Natasha is gone, and she’s left enough cash to cover both their breakfasts, and the orange scarf folded neatly on her chair. When he returns home, his house is locked but the rest of the borrowed clothing is in the washer and Natasha’s luggage and shotgun is gone, as are the remainder of the strawberry marshmallows.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was just an odd dream.

\---

He spends another two weeks in town, before the phone rings and Natasha’s on the other line. “We should go for a run soon, Bruce,” she whispers. “Maybe we can go to that fish and chips place by the pier.”

Bruce packs his backpack, and he’s on the fishing boat before sunrise. The helicopters land in the sleepy cold town that he’s called home for six weeks, but when the men dressed in winter camouflage surround the house, all they find is a plate of strawberry marshmallows on the kitchen counter, and no trace of Dr. Bruce Banner.


	2. roam if you want to.

**El Giza, Egypt.**

Natasha catches up a month later, in Egypt. He is wearing a linen shirt and sunglasses and walking along at the pyramids alone. She is in a tour group that wanders past, wearing a long skirt and an improbably large sunhat and she’s a brunette.

 

“These are amazing,” she marvels, turning to Bruce. “Hi, I’m Nadia.”

Bruce raises an eyebrow, “Ben.“

 

They walk together, two international tourists, feeling the sand and dust coat their skin.

They have a drink at the hotel lobby after the pyramids and Natasha is loose and happy and they talk about things that don’t matter that much. Bruce is impressed at the act, but he knows her too well, and this is just a brittle shell of Natasha. He sees the way her eyes dart quickly around the room, and her laugh is just a little bit too pitchy. Bruce has seen this game enough times to figure out that he really should invite her up so they can talk about why exactly she’s here. She kisses him in the elevator, her eyes gesturing to the elevator cameras so he knows exactly why, but he is still alarmed to feel her soft lips grinding into his as she presses up against him. He tries to keep his eyes closed, but his heart is pounding exceptionally fast, and he pulls away suddenly. Natasha looks into his eyes, “They’re still brown,” she whispers reassuringly, and kisses him again, gentler this time.

 

He fumbles his keycard. In the room, Natasha presses a finger to his lips. “Sorry about that. Cover.” she whispers into his ear very softly.

“Oh, yes, right, of course.” Bruce swallows. But what Natasha does next doesn’t help Bruce at all. He knows what she’s doing - she’s checking for bugs, which seems smart -  but she is absolutely, certainly, definitely not helping Bruce out at all. She walks around the room, kicking off her shoes, as she runs her foot alongside the bottom edge of the bed and the side tables. He sees her eyes bore down on him, as she shrugs off her long sleeved blouse, managing to check the underside of the table and the closets in the process. And finally, she slinks out of her skirt, and then Natasha is standing in front of him in her underwear(black, but very practical), and he really isn’t quite sure what monitoring devices she just checked on with that move.

And just as Bruce is certain he was going to start blushing an embarrassingly awful shade of greenish pink, Natasha drops the act completely and flops down on the bed.

“Oh god, that was unnecessary...no one even followed you here. There are no bugs in this room. Oh my goodness, they’ve gotten so bad at this. Bruce, gimme a sweatshirt or something.” Natasha complains.

 

Bruce hands her a hoodie from his luggage. It is a teal blue and reads “Juneau You’re In Alaska!”

“Hey, I remember this one. I borrowed it from you in Juneau. It was very comfy, I should have kept it.” Natasha wriggles into it, in a particularly unsexy manner.

Bruce smiles, “Well, I kept it in case you showed up again. You can have it, if you like.”

Natasha’s head pops up through the hoodie, and her expression is unreadable, but Bruce thinks it ranks somewhere on the confused scale.

“You lugged this ugly sweatshirt halfway across the world for me?”

“Well, I think it is comfortable too.” Bruce shrugs, and Natasha smiles a charmingly awkward smile, and nervously fumbles for the remote lying on the side table.

“Let’s see what’s on TV. I think they have CNN.” she deflects.

They do have CNN, and the news happens to be about the ongoing search for the Hulk, still led by the US Army. There’s Pepper Potts at a press conference, looking particularly severe and Bruce is pretty certain that Pepper is restraining herself from launching several choice curses at the Army representative.

“Ooops, never mind, let’s see what’s on Nickelodeon.” Natasha switches the channel.

 

Natasha lies on the bed, propped up by all the pillows. and Bruce sits cross legged by her side. Nickelodeon is much better, except that there are commercials for Avengers toys, and Natasha really doesn’t like her action figure.

“I look so severe,” she complains. “Like I’m about to shank someone.”

“You seem to have forgotten that you are also the Black Widow.” Bruce points out.

“Ughhhhhh.” she groans. “Give me the room service menu.”

Bruce gets a grilled vegetable sandwich. Natasha gets a chickpea curry and two orders of fries. She eats all of them, and also starts on Bruce’s side of fries.

They talk about New York. Nothing much has changed with the search for the Hulk and the legal battle between SHIELD and the Army over Hulk jurisdiction, but Pepper’s legal team is top notch and Natasha sounds very confident that they’ll win in the next couple weeks, despite what it looks like on CNN.

“This place is nice, though.” Natasha looks around. “The Army’s busy looking for you in Madagascar.”

“Madagascar? I thought I set up a trail to Venezuela?“

“ _Some_ people might have laid out a better trail.”

“Ha. Well, thanks.” Bruce leans back into the soft bed. “I thought it might be nice to stay at places with hot running water this time around. And I never thought I would think so, but having a Swiss bank account under a false identity is wonderful. There are some benefits to being on Stark Industries payroll.”

“Yep. Most fugitives don’t get chicken sandwiches delivered to their room.” Natasha laughs, reaching for the last fry.

“Most fugitives don’t have deadly assassin friends sitting around in ugly sweatshirts and  underwear stealing all their fries.”

Natasha smirks. “Are you getting tired of travelling?” she asks.

“No, I like travelling. It’s just that - I’m not really travelling anymore, am I? I’m just _running_. Again.”

“Well, you’re doing a good job. No one’s been able to track you down.”

“Er, you have.”

“Well, I’m...just...a really awesome spy!” Natasha declares, goofily.

“Well, Natasha...I’m really glad you’re here.” Bruce says. “Honestly.”

Natasha’s odd expression returns. “Thanks, Bruce,“ she whispers, and then hits him with a pillow from her hoard. They watch Die Hard on pay per view, and then Mission Impossible, which Natasha nitpicks to death. Bruce does not find it annoying. Natasha falls asleep on top of the comforter, so Bruce flips the rest of it over her, and gets under the sheets himself. When he wakes up, she is gone, and the ugly teal hoodie is sitting, folded neatly, at the foot of the bed.

 

It is a week later when his wake up phone call is a familiar voice, a bit tense. “There’s a guided tour to Alexandria departing from the lobby at 7am. Don’t forget that you have a reservation for it.”

The teal hoodie takes up a surprisingly large amount of space in his otherwise efficiently packed backpack, but he shoves it in anyway.

When the Army arrives at 9am, their desert camo is extremely incongruous in the lobby of a 5 star hotel, but Dr. Bruce Banner is long gone.

\---

**Sidari, Greece**

Natasha returns a couple weeks later, when Bruce is sitting on the beach of a small touristey Greek fishing village, reading a book. Actually, she walks out of the ocean, hair dyed black, and in a red retro-styled swimsuit, and Bruce’s jaw drops open, because of course she is absolutely stunning. Of course, she is also Natasha, so Bruce is not surprised when she walks right up towards him and sits down, and he’s not actually sure where her towel came from, or her book, or the large straw tote bag, except that it was apparently right beside him all along.

 

“Really? Bran Brenner? Your fake names suck, Bruce.”

“Am I being followed?”

“Noooope. Not yet.”

“You don’t seem to count yourself anymore, do you?”

“I’m not tracking you, Bruce. I’m just...hanging out.“

 

They have dinner together at a charming fish restaurant. The place has a live band that plays ‘70s and ‘80s songs and Bruce find them...interesting.

 

“I love this song. Let’s dance.” Natasha says.

“To this song? Do you know what this is?”

“A bad remix of Take a Chance on Me, by ABBA?”

“You like ABBA?”

“I love ABBA!” Natasha exclaims.

 

Bruce is bewildered enough to get up and dance, but Natasha grabs his hand and pulls him around, and sings along. Quite a bit tunelessly, but Bruce doesn’t mind, and he’s starting to think that he doesn’t mind most things about Natasha, even the fact that she’s stepped on his toes several times, and they’re not even slow dancing.

When they sit back down for a break(after a very odd polka rendition of Genesis’ Throwing it all Away), Bruce decides to ask - just to make sure that this wasn’t just some alien version of Natasha.

 

“Nat, aren’t you supposed to be all slinky and sexy and deadly and...maybe not stepping on my toes so much?”

“I’m not working, I’m on vacation,” she grins, slurping up the bottom of her fruity drink.

 

Bruce goes to the bar for the next round of drinks; he comes back to an empty table.

\---

**Bucharest, Romania.**

In Bucharest, he buys an apple from a young street vendor’s basket, and when he fumbles in his pockets for coins to pay her, she draws back her shawl a bit and laughs, and of course it is Natasha, and of course she’s wearing that horrid hoodie from Juneau.

 

Natasha knows Bucharest well, and she takes him to the Cișmigiu Gardens, where she tells him about the poets and writers that have been inspired by the place. They rent a canoe, and paddle around the artificial lake, and it is almost sweet and picturesquely romantic until Natasha tells a story about how a presumably awful person “accidentally drowned” in the lake over a decade ago. Bruce knows full well how good Natasha is at orchestrating accidents, but oddly, he always feels safer when she’s around.

****

“It’s because you’re on my side.“ Bruce says aloud.

“What?”

“I was just thinking - I feel safer when you’re around.”

“Of course. You _are_ safer when I’m around. I can kill ten men with this paddle.” Natasha tries to gesture with her flimsy wooden paddle and the boat threatens to tip.

“That’s not what I meant. I meant...it’s really nice to have a friend around. It makes all this running...bearable.”

Natasha smiles at him, and it is a bright, genuine smile. She looks happy, if tired, and Bruce likes this Natasha - this Natasha that keeps on chasing him around the world and surprising him. Sweet, silly, dorky Nat, not particularly dangerous, although he knows that it’s awfully dangerous to think that. Oh. Holy crap, he _likes_ Natasha. He really, really _likes_ Natasha.

  
“Do you like sarmale?” she interrupts his thoughts, “I’m starving and I know a good place.”


	3. rome, if you want to.

**Rome, Italy.**

Bruce goes to Rome because Rome is awfully romantic and if he’s going to do what he thinks he’s going to have to do, it might as well be in Rome. He spends his first day drinking tea nervously in an adorable cafe filled with amazing cakes. If Natasha is going to show up anywhere, a cafe filled with cakes would be a good bet, but Natasha is not very predictable.

 

The second day, he sits in on a mass at a small neighbourhood church, because he likes listening to mass, even if he isn’t Catholic. He prays for his life, and he is actually somewhat serious about it.

 

On the third day, he spots Natasha feeding pigeons in the Piazza del Popolo and she smiles brightly at him and he inhales deeply because what he is about to do is completely untrodden ground, and he is terrified beyond belief.

 

“Stay awhile this time,” he says, as he approaches.

“Not even a hello, what’s your name today?”

“It’s Natasha,” Bruce shrugs. ”If you’re here, no one is tracking us.”

“You seem very confident,” she responds, but she is relaxed, and her eyes don’t jump around the large square looking for threats.

“Stay.” He repeats.

“What’s our cover?” Natasha challenges him.

“American tourists. We’re in Rome, they’re everywhere.”

“You’ve thought this through?” Natasha presses.

“Not the cover. Just the part where you stay.”

Natasha hesitates. “Why?”

 

Bruce takes another deep breath. Greater men, smarter men, certainly stronger men, have paid dearly for what he is about to do.

 

He cups his hands around her face and kisses her softly, listening to her surprised gasp. She doesn’t pull away though. He pulls away first, and buries down the stammering apologies that he knows he’s about to spill out instinctually, because he’s not actually sorry at all, and Bruce doesn’t lie.

 

“Bruce, for most men, that would be a death warrant.” Natasha says, a little too seriously.

“A copy of my last will and testament is in the left right pocket of my backpack, and the original is in the safe in my room at Stark Tower. Pepper has the combination.” Bruce answers, not quite as seriously.

“Are you sure?”

“Sure about what?”

”I’m the Black Widow.” Natasha’s voice cracks a bit.

Bruce laughs. “No, I’m not sure about that. I like Natasha a lot, though. You know, the woman that eats all my strawberry marshmallows and steals all my fries, and falls asleep on me all the time, and made me the ugliest Hulk puppet and stole my ugliest hoodie and keeps on following me around the world? Oh my goodness, am I _really_ trying to convince the Black Widow that I really am extremely fond of her?”

 

Bruce isn’t sure whether it is the Black Widow speaking, or just Natasha Romanoff, but one of them definitely kisses back.

 

“I didn’t steal it.” Natasha says indignantly.

“My ugly teal hoodie that you disappeared out of my tiny beachfront hut in Greece?”

“You said I could have it in Egypt.”

“You’re right, I did.” he admits.

 

They check out of Bruce’s shared room at the hostel. He’s sharing the room with three vacationing Austrian college students, because he didn’t think through his plan beyond the part where he asks Natasha to stay. They get a private room at the same hostel instead, which isn’t fancy, but will do. The beds are creaky and the mattress is hard, but they make out like teenagers anyway.  

 

“Maybe I should have done this in Egypt.” Bruce muses.

“That really was a much nicer room.”

“Would you have been...receptive then?”

Natasha chuckles, “Bruce, I’ve literally followed you across the world. I know I’m not the most expressive person, but even that is sort of obvious, right?”

“So, you volunteered for the assignment?”

 

Natasha sits up straight then. “Assignment?” she laughs. “Bruce. I’ve been flying economy class. The airlines have lost my luggage twice. I’ve been unarmed - well, unarmed with most conventional weapons - most of the time. I've been willingly pat down by surly TSA agents I can eliminate with my hands bound and my eyes closed. SHIELD can’t _pay_ me enough to deal with that bullshit.”

 

“Wow.” It goes without saying that Bruce is a bit speechless.

 

“I _missed_ you. No, that’s not quite the right word,” Natasha pauses. ”Here, let me try to explain. When I’m angry, and I’ve been working too much, and I’m just all tangled up inside, I come back to Stark Tower, and I eat your cooking, and I watch movies and fall asleep on you, and I work in the woodshop, and...it’s peaceful. I know I’m a bit odd, and even awkward sometimes around you...but I spend so much time being other people - having to be other people - and you just bring out...me, and maybe I am a bit odd and awkward. But just around you, so please don't tell anyone. I don’t know how it happened, Bruce. I mean, everyone else - Clint, Tony, Pepper, Steve, Thor, Jane, even Darcy, they’re all my friends but - you - you’re my _anchor_ , somehow.”

 

Bruce stares at her. Sure, she’s very pretty, but there’s something else in Natasha - something warm, and open, and generous. And she is here, with him, telling him that she wants to be here, with him, and that is the most amazing, unbelievable thing in the world right now.

 

“I can’t stop staring at you. You’re amazing. Do you want to try and warn me off again?” Bruce asks.

 

“I work a lot, and I rarely leave notes when I leave.” Natasha offers.

“I already knew that.” says Bruce.

“I’m not going to have sex with you for a while. I have lots of issues there I need to work out first.“ she says softly.

“Yeah, I have some issues with sex too. Giant green monster issues.”

Natasha chortles. “Giant green monster dong?”

“I don’t think it’s the right time in our relationship to discuss giant green monster dong.”

“Also, I’m a weapon.” she continues.

“I leak low level gamma radiation.” Bruce retorts.

“I’ve killed a lot of people.”

“I levelled Harlem.”

“You might actually be winning this. Hmm, what else. Oh yes, Clint’s my ex-boyfriend.” Natasha cringes a bit.

Bruce shrugs. “Mine too.”

“What?”

“That’s a joke.”

“Oh, it was believable.” she exhales.

“Tasha. There’s literally nothing I dislike about you, or that will bother me, other than I’m never letting you cut my hair again. Can we go back to making out now? Just tell me if I get a bit greenish and we can stop and go get gelato.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

 

Natasha definitely kisses back.

 

They do get gelato(she gets peach, he gets spumoni), and more kissing, and lots of cuddling, but in the morning, Natasha is clothed and pulling her shoes on when he wakes up.

 

“I actually do have to go to work today.” she explains, reluctantly.

“Where?”

“I can’t tell you or I’ll have to kill you, and I really would prefer not to kill you. But, on a completely different note, if you were thinking of where else to run to, I’ve always wanted to go to Malta.”

“Malta? Why?”

“You should go and find out. Maybe in a month or so?” Natasha says, slinking out the door.

 

“Tasha!” Bruce calls to her. “Is it too early to tell you I love you?”

 

Natasha turns back and smiles sadly. “It is.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Moscow, Russia.**

Bruce is actually on the way to Moscow when he finds out from a BBC newscast that the Hulk now belongs to SHIELD again, and he can go home, if he wants. Pepper Potts reads the press release on-screen, and looks wistful when she looks at the cameras and says “Come home now, Bruce. We miss you.” He is perhaps a bit optimistic, or maybe just hopeful, but Natasha doesn’t meet him in Moscow. Oddly, he finds himself playing outlandish scenarios where she’d be likely to pop up over and over in his head.

He walks on the street a lot his first day there, glancing at every pretty redhead, but many girls look a bit like Natasha in Moscow. Natasha looks like a lot of people, but no one looks like Natasha.

He takes the train, because he thinks it’s a good place to be accidentally bumped into. He is definitely accidentally bumped into, by a lot of people, but certainly not Natasha.

He goes to the park to feed ducks, expecting Natasha to sidle up in a trench coat and a bag of stale bread, like in a bad spy movie, but she doesn’t come and the ducks harass him a lot more that he thinks ducks should. He decides that he doesn’t like ducks much.

Bruce doesn’t have much but Natasha on his mind, so he doesn’t notice the slight scratches around the keyhole of his boarding house’s door, and he’s certainly quite surprised to open the door and find Clint lounging in his bed, eating crackers.

“Clint.”

“Hey Bruce. Don’t kick me out of bed for eating crackers.”

“Er, yeah. Um, where’s Natasha?”

“Natasha. Natasha maybe doesn’t work for SHIELD anymore? We can talk about it on the flight home.”

“Clint. Where is Natasha?” Bruce tenses up.

“On the helicarrier.” Clint looks uncomfortable.

“Where on the helicarrier?” Bruce is suspicious.

“The...brig.”

It is a testament to Bruce’s controlled fury, that it is definitely Dr. Bruce Banner that punches Clint in the face, and not the Hulk. When Clint wakes up, Bruce is bandaging his slightly bruised hand.

“Okay, clearly I can talk to you about this.” Clint groans. “I wasn’t sure which side you were on.”

“Natasha’s side! How is that even a question?” Bruce yells.

“Okay, okay.” Clint holds up his hands. “Please don’t get angrier, I think you broke my nose.”

“SHIELD thinks Natasha has gone rogue.”

“What?”

“She’s been behaving very strangely. She’s disappeared for over fifty days in the past four months. She removed her tracker and refuses to reinstall it. I mean, she has the vacation time, but she isn’t filing paperwork. She slips all our agents - including me, by the way - when she leaves. Security cameras have spotted her all over the world, but always a couple weeks later, and she certainly isn’t answering any questions about where she’ve been. SHIELD think she’s been secretly meeting up with external agents and may defect. She was on probation, but she kept on leaving, so now she’s in the brig until they figure it out.” Clint continues. “I don’t agree with SHIELD, of course. I trust Natasha, whatever she’s doing..”

Bruce sighs and shakes his head. “She’s been following me, Clint.”

Clint looks confused. Bruce waits, letting the pieces fall into place in Clint’s brain.

“How did you find me? No one has for four months.” Bruce prods.

“Natasha told- oh. Oh.”

“We should probably go back and clear this up.”

“Oh. Oh my god. OH MY GOD. Wait, am I assuming correctly?”

Clint chokes on a cracker and Bruce hits him on the back to help - but perhaps a bit too hard.

“Clint, stop spazzing out.”

“Wait. You, and Natasha. And OH MY GOD.”

“You know, you are taking this far worse than the Tony and Steve news.”

“We all saw that one coming! But this. This is you. And Tasha.”

“I feel kind of insulted by that. I mean I’m kind of scruffy looking but - ”

“No, no, I mean - wait. Can you have sex?”

Bruce sighs. “That, Clint, is none of your fucking business. Let’s go home and get Natasha out of jail. Actually, why don’t you just call home and tell them to get her out right now, or I’ll be very angry by the time I get to the helicarrier, and we don’t want that, do we?”

Clint isn’t sure what to say, but “Yes, sir” is always a good fallback.

\---

**The Helicarrier.**

On the flight home, Bruce lays out where he’s been over the past four months, and where Natasha has been as far as he knows. They mostly match up with SHIELD’s estimates, but SHIELD data is spotty, because Natasha is very, very good. Clint rubs his temples and swears. “I can’t believe that she got everyone so worked up because of this” he grumbles. “Goddamn spies.”

Natasha is awaiting them when they land. She is smiling wide, dressed casually in jeans and a black shirt, and she’s not cuffed or restrained, which relieves Bruce because he’d rather not get angrier. Nick Fury is beside her, scowling, but he is often scowling, so it’s expected.

“No kissing in public.” is the first thing she says to Bruce.

“Hug?” he offers.

“Hugs can be negotiated,” as she wraps her arms around him tightly. She looks at Clint. “Did Bruce punch you in the face?”

The ensuing meeting with Fury is tense, except for Natasha, who is gleefully shifting in the chair like a kid who’s had too much candy.

“Natasha, you say you were tracking Bruce?” Fury demands.

“Yep.”

“Only 6 of the days correspond with time spent with Bruce. Even considering significant travel time, that leaves over twenty days unaccounted for.”

“I was on vacation.”

“Say that again?”

“Vacation. I went touristing. I’ll fill out post dated vacation requests, sorry about that.”

“But, you’re the Black Widow! You...don’t go on vacation.” Fury splutters.

“Well, I haven’t gone on vacation before. But I’ve now decided that it’s very nice. Do you need proof? I have brochures, but I didn’t bring you any souvenirs.”

“This is silly.” groans Fury.

“Did you know that Rome is gorgeous when you’re not busy taking down a terrorist cell at the same time? The food is amazing. They make this dry aged steak, best eaten rare. Exquisite.” Natasha offers, by way of non-explanation.

\---

**Stark Tower, New York**

Later, back at the tower, Natasha shows Bruce her collection of brochures and souvenirs. “So...I just happened to be vacationing in the general area you were in - it doesn’t mean I wasn’t vacationing.” She lifts up a delicate silver teaspoon. “Also, I might have started a spoon collection.”

Bruce examines the spoon. It is from Bucharest. “Why didn’t you just tell them you were tracking me in the first place?”

“I didn’t want anyone to find you until I was absolutely certain you’d be safe.”

“You were protecting me?”

“Yeah, of course, that’s the point.”

“I’m starting to think you like me, Natasha.”

“Only a little bit, don’t let it get to your head.” she mutters, slipping her hand into his. “I’ve never really been on a normal relationship before, you know.”

“Like, with the courting and dates and what not?” Bruce asks. Clint had assured him that their relationship was short lived, and not particularly traditional.

“Not really, no. Not real ones.” Natasha says.

“And you picked...me to have a normal relationship with?”

“Yeah, do you want to go on a date with me?”

“Is it going to be our first official date? Where do you want to go?”

“I told you. Malta.” Natasha smiles.

“Normal relationship. Got it.” Bruce laughs.

\---

Bruce laughs even further when he realizes why Natasha wants to go to Malta.

“It’s this village, they built it all for this movie, you see, and they never tore the set down. Sweethaven, in Malta. Apparently it’s kind of a little theme park now and I want to go see it.” she explains, as they sit down to watch Robert Altman’s Popeye, released in 1980.

“I’ve seen this movie, Nat. Robin Williams is Popeye and he is completely unintelligible.”

“I love this movie. It’s amazing.” she insists.

“You have the most confusing taste.”

“Oooo, shhh, Olive Oyl is my favourite. Also, they’re going to do the ‘I Yam What I Yam’ song.” Natasha interrupts, and Bruce breaks down laughing hysterically.

In the end, their first date is not to Malta, but to a nice Thai restaurant a few blocks away, because Natasha has begrudgingly agreed to not go on vacation without filing the appropriate paperwork first.


	5. Chapter 5

Natasha never says “I love you,” and she shifts uncomfortably whenever Bruce sounds like he’s about to blurt it out, so he doesn’t do it again. She wants to take it slow, she says, and just one day at a time. Bruce understands - he is patient, and he doesn’t need the words. Natasha doesn’t communicate with words most of the time anyway, and it’s fine with him if she’s a bit uncomfortable with some of them -  but the way she moves, the way she remembers how to make his tea(really, the fact that she makes tea for him at all), the way she leans into him when they’re just standing next to each other - her intentions are clear with every fiber of her being.

\---

The relationship is negotiated as such.

Bruce makes strawberry marshmallows once a week. He makes lots of other flavours too, but Natasha hoards the strawberry ones. Occasionally, and very occasionally, she’ll share with Thor.

The ugly teal hoodie from Juneau is Natasha’s now. Everyone thinks it’s hideous too, but Natasha insists on wearing it frequently.

They haven’t had sex, and that’s okay. Natasha isn’t entirely sure how much she likes sex, but she is comfortable that when she feels like experimenting with someone she actually likes, she can trust Bruce. Bruce isn’t sure he _can_ have sex, and there will definitely be some experiments on _that_ front, but he might need Tony’s help for Hulk containment purposes and frankly - he’s really, _really_ not ready to ask Tony for help managing giant green monster dong.

They kiss a lot. They cuddle. Mostly in private, which is a stark contrast to, well, Stark. Tony and Steve are obnoxiously public about their feelings, at least in the Tower, and Natasha and Bruce are subtle enough that barely anyone notices, although they all know. She still falls asleep on him on movie nights, but she was doing that long before she chased Bruce all over the world, so that is a concession to her preference for non-public affection. “It’s...oddly sweet,” Steve comments, watching Bruce complain about their fifth re-watch of Robert Altman’s Popeye(It’s not Movie Night. The others could only stand the movie once). “It’s sweetly odd,” Tony says.

They double date with Tony and Steve once, but Natasha swears that she will kill Tony if he makes fun of her one more time for “falling in _loooooove_.” Also, Tony and Bruce can’t help talking shop when they’re together, which just leads to annoyed looks from both Steve and Natasha. So, no more double dates, although they’ve agreed to go drinking with Jane and Thor sometime in the future.

\---

They still keep separate rooms at the tower, because Natasha insists on always having her own space, especially since Tony has put an embargo on having her garishly coloured woodworking projects in the common areas. Also, Bruce works late and doesn’t like waking her up at 4am, especially since his own quarters adjoin his lab space.

They clear spaces for each other, though. Natasha has a closet full of collared shirts and khakis and linen pants now, and one of those hot water electric kettles so Bruce can make tea without having to put his clothing back on. Bruce moves Natasha’s rocking chair(a gift from Steve) into a corner of his lab, and stashes marshmallows in his desk drawers. Often, she’ll fall asleep reading there in his lab, and Bruce will have wrangle her over to his bed. She sleeps very soundly around Bruce, which he feels somehow proud of, although having to move boneless, sleepy, Natasha just twenty feet and through two doors is like moving a floppy giant squid.

\---

Natasha is as graceful as ever around everyone else, including the rest of the team. Sometimes, Bruce goes to watch her train with Steve and Clint and marvels at the way she moves, the way she bends and flips and dances through the air like a bird. She is much faster than Steve and Clint, and sometimes she fights both of them, and they are both stronger, but they have to work hard, and push themselves to the limit to even touch her, much less succeed at pinning her down.

And then, later, she accidentally trips over a pile of books he left in her room, and this is the Tasha he loves.

\---

Clint doesn’t have relationship advice for Bruce. Clint is surprised to find out that Natasha loves getting flowers, or maybe just loves getting flowers from Bruce. Natasha assures Clint that the engraved throwing knives that Clint gave her while they were dating still, and will always have, a place in her heart, and more literally, also several other hearts.

\---

They haven’t gone to Malta yet, because Avengers business has really been ramping up, and they can’t take any time off, but Fury promises that if they actually last a year, they can take off for their anniversary. Natasha refuses to promise anything, but Bruce is okay with that. It’s good for now, and for Natasha and Bruce, good is amazing.


End file.
